


To Pass The Time

by emma_and_orlando



Series: She Makes Me [4]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Boredom, Cock Tease, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom!Dominique, F/M, Inappropriate Humor, Light Dom/sub, Public Hand Jobs, Public Nudity, Sub!Roger, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: Roger and Dominique pass the time playing a dare game.(Based on the story of Roger in LA where a woman took her breasts out in the middle of the meal)
Relationships: Dominique Beyrand/Roger Taylor
Series: She Makes Me [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524020
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40
Collections: Clog Factory





	To Pass The Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yasmamamercury (Em_1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_1/gifts).



> Dkfkdkskkss okay so every now and then I get so inspired I just want to write a little domtay to cleanse my soul. This one is for my domtay friend in crime, Em ❤️ 
> 
> I hope you lovies enjoy. Please mind the tags.

"I'm bored."

"That's a very flattering thing to tell your dinner date." Dominique half heartedly scolds. Perhaps Roger would have been more impressed if she wasn't so terribly bored herself. 

Something about the most prestigious and expensive restaurant of West Hollywood seemed alluring at the time, but now, one hour in the dimmed candlelit marble sparsely decorated room, surrounded by the richest and vainest, served by men in three piece suites, only on their third course of eight, some of the excitement has dulled.

Roger is staring at his empty plate like it might be the white backdrop of a movie playing in his head to escape this boredom.

If Roger hadn't already paid over three hundred dollars for each of their dishes, they would have bolted for the McDonalds opposite their hotel fifty minutes ago. 

Dominique sits back in her strangely uncomfortable chair and crosses her arms. She can't believe she hoisted herself in her sexiest nightgown only for Roger to examine his plate all night long. They only have a week before she returns to London and Roger is expected fulltime in the studio and they have to make due with the time they got together. 

"Roger."

"Hm?" His eyes shift over with a lazy drag.

Dominique looks around the room and searches for something, _anything_. 

When her eyes land on the approaching waiter, a idea pops into her head.

She leans over the table so her lips are close to Rogers ear, to make sure nobody else could hear. "I dare you to speak in a made-up language when the waiter comes to collect our plates."

Roger pulls slightly back to look at her. "What?"

"I dare you."

Roger opens his mouth to respond, but the waiter is already standing by their table with his hands clasped behind his back and a practiced smile. "Did you enjoy your course, sir and madam?" 

Dominique lets her eyes drift over to Roger, who despite being caught of guard, shuts his mouth and clears his throat.

For that beat of silence she believes he will pussy out of the dare, but fortunately, Roger never ceases to surprise him. 

" _Rakjafek burnola frasla aug_." 

The confidence in which he speaks doesn't just leave the waiter dumbfounded, but also makes zero sense. One course ago Roger still spoke English, now he sounded like a side character in Star Wars. 

The waiter blinks, kindly, and then asks, "Sorry, could you, uh, repeat that for me, sir?"

" _Postula._ " Roger gives the most charming of all smiles, before he repeats whatever gibberish he had made up. " _Rakjafek burnola frasla aug_."

Dominique bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from giving the act away.

She turns her face up to the waiter, who was already sending her a panicked look. "Excuse my partner, he is from an old tribe in North West England. He said he liked the sausages, but thought the red squishy things were a little dry. He also said we would like another round of drinks, but this time we'll have the bottle." 

"H-he said all that?"

"Of course he did." Dominique turns to Roger. "Didn't you, Dear?" 

" _Rulasta barria geresteve_." He smiles back before reaching for her hand across the table to give it a tight squeeze. He looks up at the waiter and says, " _Regnashi orla sahino._ " As if to say, whatever the lady wants.

The waiter must be used to serving some wild figures during the job, because without further ado he gathers their plates and lets them know their next course is coming with their bottle. Most people who can afford a meal such as this or the earrings Dominique is wearing are famous, or at the very least, filthy rich. If the waiter thinks Roger is a complete wacko for changing native tongue somewhere this evening, he doesn't complain.

When the waiter is out of earshot, Roger bursts out into giggles. It's the first time Dominique has heard him laugh since they arrived. 

She can't help but smile just as hard, lucky for them there is a live band playing, else all the heads would have turned to them. 

Roger slams his fist into the table, eyes sparkling like the sun catching clear water.

"I can't believe you made me do that!" 

"I didn't make you do anything." She grins. She feels smug and powerful knowing how she has this radiant effect on Roger. "I gave a dare and you took it." 

"Well, now you have to do one." 

"Is that so?" Dominique grins and grabs her glass off the table to finish the final sip. Roger nods enthusiastically and Dominique is the one who started the silly game, so she might as well indulge him. "Alright, what is your dare?" 

Like herself Roger scans the room for something to do. 

It isn't as easy as it sounds. Dominique prides herself on her creativity on the first round. She wonders if Roger can top that in the constricted environment of the rich patrons in the too dark room of the too expensive restaurant.

But one thing is sure, never underestimate Roger Taylor. 

"I dare you," He drawls, tapping his chin and making it up as he goes along. "I dare you to..."

His eyes land on on a point over her shoulder. The sudden smugness on Rogers face tells Dominique her fate has been sealed. 

"Walk up to the pianist and request the state anthem of the Soviet Union." 

It's her turn to drop her jaw. "I can't ask that!" She laughs, because certainly she _can_. It would just be outrageously ridiculous. "He has been playing Schubert for the past two hours." 

"Time to switch it up, don't you think?" Roger asks. He clacks her empty glass with his empty glass. "Cheers!"

She struggles getting up in tight her dress because of the length, but she doubts Roger will think it's anything but an excuse to avoid the dare. 

The highly embarrassing socially killing dare.

But it isn't harder than talking in a made-up language to their waiter. 

Counting her losses, Dominique struggles upright and leaves the table and Roger with his shit eating grin behind. She keeps her poise and puffs out her chest, hoping her cleavage would help her gain sympathy from the unsuspecting pianist she is approaching with a confidence she shouldn't have. 

He is taking a break having a sip of water when she taps him on gbd shoulder.

He turns to her with a smile which Dominique returns. _Oh God_. She can practically hear Roger cackling from across the restaurant. 

"Excuse me, sir." She drawls in her most charming france accent. He immediately turns around to see who is talking. She must give him credits for keeping his eyes above her shoulders. 

"Good evening, ma dame, is there something I can help you with?"

"Certainly." Dominique hastes. She hopes her face isn't red with repressed laughter. "I was hoping to request a song?"

"That's not very usual," The man clears his throat, but another look in her eyes makes him reconsider. Men are too easy. "But for a pretty woman like you, a man must make exceptions." 

"Of course." She says, fluttering her eyelashes.

The pianist clasps his thighs. "Well what song did you have in mind?"

Oh God. 

Dominique glances down at her feet and forces her facial muscles to relax. She is giving herself away and she has come too far now. 

Looking at him makes it even harder, so she stares at a point right over his shoulder. 

"I was hoping you were familiar with the state anthem of the Soviet Union." 

"Uh," The pianist frowns. "I'm sorry did you just say—"

"The state anthem of the Soviet Union, yes." Dominique flips her hair over his shoulder. "It's the new rage in Europe."

"Right. No, I uh, I don't think the band knows that one."

"That's a pity then." Dominique says with a finality and leaves, because if she doesn't turn around now, she will laugh straight at his pinched little face.

Before she has makes it back to her table she is already burst into a fit of laughter. Roger does the exact same and points behind her at the band, who are now listening to the pianist talking to them while glancing worriedly at Dominique and Rogers table. 

"I hate you." She grins before she flops down into her chair.

Roger scoots his chair closer until they are practically side by side. He leans over to press his smiling lips against her own in a tender joyous kiss. 

"You don't hate me." He smiles. "But don't tell me that wasn't a good one."

"It _wasn't_." Dominique scolds when Roger eventually sits back. "Now these Americans all think I'm some kind of Russian spy." 

"I don't know about you, but I wouldn't complain to see you in a tight black—"

"Shut your filthy mouth Roger Taylor and listen to _your_ next dare." 

The perked surprise that flickers across his face is almost rewarding enough. But Dominique knows it's best to follow through fo live up to his expectations. 

"Do you see the bag belonging to the woman sitting behind you?" 

Roger casually scoots around to have a look. Once he spots the bag he turns back and nods. "Yeah?" 

"If you had your glasses on you would see that there is a little dog trapped inside. Do the poor creature a favor and open it. I dare you."

"A dog?" Roger turns again to see if she is right. In the poor lighting with Rogers eyesight he must have missed the clear plastic parts of the bag that show movement and wriggling inside. It is not cute and when Roger sees she is right, he accepts the challenge. "Fine. If that's the best you can think of." 

She scoffs, _fine_. Next time she will be more ruthless. 

Roger has the advantage that both he and the woman have their backs turned to each other. They are seated close enough for Roger to casually lean back in his chair, tipping on the hide legs, while he blindly fumbles with the zipper on her brown Louis Vuitton bag. 

Dominique knows Roger has managed when she hears the relieved yip of a small dog. 

All the heads of the restaurant turn to the woman. Roger quickly bounces his chair back onto four feet and pretends he was the only person not to notice the sudden bark.

The woman plays it cool, she reaches for her dog and carries her out of her bag as if that were her plan all along. "What is it baby? What's wrong my little baby girl?" 

"Maybe it's a mammal that requires oxygen to live." Roger snorts into his arm.

Dominique nearly bursts into snickers when the dog owner hears him and turns to give him a disapproving glare. _How rude!_ , her tightly pulled face screams.

But Roger doesn't see what's happening behind him and if he knew, Dominique doubts he would care.

She squeezes his arm and congratulates him on the win.

"I think you saved a life today."

"Oh you know how I am." Roger grins. He is luckily Dominique doesn't flick his nose like she ought to. "Saving people and making the world a better place everywhere I go— oh hey, see the waiter finally coming back with our next course? After he pours you a glass, spit in it and pour it back into the bottle. If he asks, say it's something French." 

Dominique actually pauses this time. Her eyes serious. "You paid two hundred and fifty dollars for that bottle. We shouldn't waste it."

"Who says we should waste it?" Roger glances at something from the corner of his eye, before stating. "He's coming." 

This time Dominique will actually embarrass herself if she doesn't do it with the ultimate confidence. The waiter returns with two dishes and a bottle of the wine they had requested. He has a very polite smile, Dominique feels rather sorry he has to work here and serve idiots like them all day. She imagines it might be much worse if he doesn't look all too compelled at their antics.

"The shrimp and cooks famous sauce for madam and for sir."

He puts each of their plate in front of them, without commenting on the fact that they are practically side by side now.

Next he uncorks the bottle in front of them. 

"Authentic." Dominique comments calmly. Preparing for what is to come with a sick rush of excitement that she only ever gets when she is around Roger. 

The waiter first pours her a glass and then Roger. He informs them about its origin and flavors. It is all air to Dominique. 

Good wine is good wine.

He leaves the bottle on the table and stands there, waiting for them to say something when he asks if there is anything else they might need. 

Roger throws Dominique a pointed glance. 

Dominique takes a shallow exhale, reaches for her glass filled a third of the way, she takes one sip from the brim, swirls it around in her mouth, before spitting the gulp back into her glass

She does it slowly and precise to make it seem like an old ritual. 

The waiter is watching with a blank face, smile turned into an unconscious grimace.

This isn't all, Dominique reminds herself.

She swirls the glass until her spit is properly mixed with the wine, before she drags the bottle over and pours the contents of her drink back inside. Once that is finished she also swirls that, until she is satisfied and puts the bottle to her lips to drink straight from the source.

She does pity the poor waiter for their poor behavior, but knowing Roger, he will leave a more than generous tip. 

After putting the bottle back down, Dominique clears her throat and suppresses a burp. 

"No." She says. "Nothing else for me. Rog?"

" _Ocrovia pasteino loluta reino_." Made-up language.

"Right, that'll be all indeed." She dismisses the waiter, who scrambles off faster than she has ever seen anyone speed walk without actually classifying as running, 

Roger really thinks he outdid himself this time. He is hollering as soon as they are alone again. 

He drops his head into his hands and laughs. 

"You know I have to take revenge now. Right?"

"Try me." Roger brushes a falling tear away. "Please, I'd love to see you try outdo me on this one."

"Fine!"

"Fine." Roger cackles. His face red with how much he is laughing at her act. She must admit the dare worked because she made it work. It would be embarrassing to fall and stumble and be caught in an act. That would be the most embarrassing.

Be caught.

There is one thing Roger really isn't gifted in. One single thing next to cooking, which is acting. 

The idea forms in her head when she casts a look around the room and sees a man has left his glass too close to the edge of the table. With that, her plan escalates.

"Is there a Charlie Chaplin hidden inside of you, babe?" 

"I sure hope not." Roger smiles. He tries to follow her gaze and guess his next dare. "Why?"

"Why? Well my dear Roger, you are going to walk up to that table, the one over there? Yeah, you will walk over there and pretend to stumble over the foot of that mans chair. You stumble and accidentally knock over his glass and when you fall you realize you have dropped your glass eye."

Roger stops laughing, but his smile doesn't disappear. "Wait that's three dares into one." 

"Take the challenge like a man!"

He scoffs and pouts in one strange noise Dominique can't help but find endearing. It seems that hesitation actually flickers across Rogers face, perhaps not because he cares about embarrassing himself, but how he is going to pull this off without getting caught and thrown out for being a poor mime. 

"Oh come on, Rog. Are you telling me this is where you hit your limit? I almost can't believe it." She teases, he loves it when she uses that voice even if it's against him. 

His eyes drift over to the man and the glass again. Dominique watches him calculate what his next step should be.

"If we get kicked out I'm blaming you." 

"Blame me all you want. It would just proof you are a bad actor." She grins and taps his nose with a wink. 

A long exhale later, determination returns to his face and Roger pushes his chair and himself away from the clothed table to march his way over to what could presumably be the restroom for the rest of the patrons, but Dominique can tell he is headed straight for the man with the glass on the edge of the table.

Tactic well sorted, Roger slows his pace and walks fast in short distanced steps. 

When he reaches the mans table Dominique holds her breath and waits for Rogers foot to hook around the mans pulled out chair and stumble.

A shrieked, "Oh my God!" Echoes across the restaurant. 

It is presumably the wife of the man Roger targeted. In his fall, Roger knocks over the glass that is too close to the edge of the table. The glass thuds on the floor next to him, water spills everywhere but at least the glass didn't break.

To make matters worse (or in Dominiques opinion, better) Roger falls with his head turned down. The couple who's sitting at said table jump to their feet and scramble around with apologies. The man in question tries to hoist Roger back to his feet, but Roger doesn't allow himself to be manhandled under the disguise of shock. When he 'recovers' from his way down, he looks up at the astonished man with wide eyes panic, covering the left side of his face with his hands.

"I lost my eye!" 

"Your eye?" The man stammers, confused.

Roger blinks up with him with his 'good' eye. The little drama queen is still half on the floor. "My glass eye. It got knocked out." 

This makes the woman still standing in front of her chair panic.

"Michael!" She exclaims, shocked, her hand goes up to cover her lips. "Help the poor man find his eye!"

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

The man drops to his knees alongside Roger and together they scramble to find Rogers nonexistent glass eye. Roger can only search with one hand to keep his face covered. 

They touch the carpeted floor with their flat palms. The man doesn't look to keen about the idea of finding Rogers eye anyway, grimacing every time he thinks he's touching something. 

To make matters worse, the woman continues to talk down on him with a tight high pitched voice.

"I told you to pull your chair in when you are seated. I always tell you the same thing, Michael. Look what happens when you don't listen to me. Oh God this poor British fellow lost his eye because of your stubbornness. And the _glass_. How many times did I tell you to place the glass further from the edge? You are so stubborn Michael. You need to listen to your wife for once for Christs sake!"

Dominique sits quite a distance away but her voice booms over the rest of the restaurant, causing everyone to stare at the scene and in particular her disgruntled husband. 

Roger must have started to worry about his hearing, because suddenly he closes his fingers around air. "Aha!" He exclaims and pretends to pop his glass eye back into his socket without as much as wiping it clean.

The man looks horrified at the sight, but Roger doesn't give him time to reflect on it. 

He climbs to his feet and blinks excessively. When he is ready to make his departure the woman has silenced as well. 

"Sorry to disrupt your lovely evening, madam." He says with a hand held to his heart.

Dominique rolls her eyes when the woman melts. Her cheeks turn a bright pink and a flattering smile crosses her aging face. "Oh, certainly don't apologize to me, we owe you and your lovely eh—" She glances at Dominique over Rogers shoulder. Her smile drops a little. " _Wife_ an apology."

"Don't worry about it!" Roger turns around to walk away. He clasps the mans shoulder when he is finally on his feet as well, before he strides back to their table. The man grunts in response with somewhat of a red face himself. 

Dominique is waiting for him with her arms folded on the table and a big smile on her face. 

Roger holds his laughter back until he has plopped down and can snicker into her shoulder to muffle the sound. She wraps an arm around his neck and heartedly laughs along with him. They have barely drunk more than one glass of wine each. 

"Did you see his face?" Roger gasps between hiccups of silent laughter.

Dominique can't help herself and snort like a farm animal when she laughs too hard.

"Did you see _her_ face?" She clears her throat and Christ her face muscles hurt from smiling too hard.

" _Michael_!" The exclaim in unison. Causing only more laughter to bubble over the edge. Honestly Dominique can't quite remember the last time she has laughed like this while completely sober. They haven't even touched their course yet, let alone another bit of the wine Dominique spoiled. 

Oh well.

With Roger still hanging off her shoulder, Dominique switches their glasses so she has Rogers filled one and she can pour him some more from the bottle she spit in. 

Roger doesn't complain. He's good sport that way. 

After settling the bottle back down, Dominique reaches for her new glass and sips from the brim. Roger eventually manages to gather the strength to look up again. His face is too close to hers for social standards, but the way he nuzzles her cheek and presses longing kisses to her shoulder is irresistible. 

She sends him a look from the corner of her eye. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Admiring my beautiful girlfriend is all." Roger says in wide eyed adoration. 

His hand finds hers on the table and he intertwines their fingers so he can rub his thumb over her knuckles. He speaks directly into the her ear in a low rasped whisper that makes her awfully aware of how tight her thighs are pressed together in this dress. 

His wet lips brush over the sensitive shell of her ear. "I haven't had fun like this in forever." 

"Neither have I." She comments wryly into her glass. 

A pregnant pause staggers between them. Roger swallows thickly and asks, "Want to make this more interesting?" 

"How?"

"The next time the waiter comes out, I dare you to pull your dress down."

Dominique pauses. She puts her glass on the table and turns to Roger. He is not only deadly serious and undeniably horny, but the air of laughter returns too. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Take out your breasts. I dare you." 

"Why— how?" Dominique laughs. "That's ridiculous. No. I'm not doing it, we're gonna get kicked out." 

Not that she cares if they get kicked out at this point. It is a naughty idea, which is strangely arousing. This little filth bag has caused her moral compass to lose direction a long time ago. 

"How do you imagine I pull that off?" She asks.

Rogers pupils dilate. He swallows thickly and runs his knuckles over the smooth skin of her bare shoulder. "I don't know and I don't care how you do it. I just wanna to see your tits out." 

"You're a true charmer, Roger Taylor." 

But he is, actually. The breathless edge of his voice is full of admiration and he is squirming, wriggling in his chair with anticipation. 

"We're gonna get kicked out." She says finally, but she is smiling. This isn't a nude beach in France. This is the most prestigious restaurant in West Hollywood. But she doesn't care. Apparently there is nothing she could say no to when Roger gets carried into one of these moods. 

She is at least partly to blame. She was the one who started the daring. 

"Dom?"

"Yeah?" She asks, turning her attention back to her date. "Is he coming?"

Roger nods eagerly and glances between the upcoming waiter and Dominique. 

"Are you actually gonna do it?"

"Shut your mouth and watch me do it." She mutters, before lowering her voice only for him. "Enjoy the show." 

If Dominique was a cruel woman she would have called Roger out for keening obscenely. 

But it is too late now. The waiter stops by their table and tries not to frown at their obviously untouched food. Roger makes no attempt to speak, the prospect of what's to come is too distracting to form any believable gibberish. 

"Was there something wrong with the dish?" The waiter asks politely.

Dominique clears her throat. "No, no. Just not in as much of a shrimp mood as we had thought, right my darling?"

"Uhuh." Roger bops his head. He couldn't be staring down her cleavage more obviously.

The waiter wastes no time gathering their plates with an apology for the course. He offers to pack it to go, Dominique agrees but doubts that shrimp will be any good the next morning. 

While the poor, poor waiter balances the plates on his hand and under arm, Dominique casually reaches for her glass. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and mentally apologizes to every female ancestor she has ever had, before purposely spilling the remainder of the wine over her chest and breasts.

"Oh my goodness!" Dominique exclaims.

The waiter jumps at the sudden shout and barely manages to hold onto the plates he is holding.

Without hesitating, Dominique reaches behind herself and unzips the upper part of her dress.

Before the wine can trickle down and seep unto the fabric, Dominique lowers it down to her midrif. Exposing her breasts to every lucky man or woman looking her way. 

"Oh silly me." She chuckles and turns to Roger, who is holding out a napkin to clean her. She reaches out to take it from him, but Roger doesn't hand it over, but starts dabbing her exposed chest clean himself. Dominique can't help the smile from curling at the corners of her lips at the focused look on Rogers face. "Thank you, dear."

"No problem." Roger murmurs in normal English, but nobody corrects him on that. 

The waiter is still standing there. Completely frozen on the spot. It's painfully obvious that he doesn't know what to do while Roger is drying Dominiques bare breasts down. He should tell them off for being nude in the restaurant, but she had spilled wine over herself and couldn't possibly ruin the very expensive dress she is wearing. Right? 

Roger takes his time running the white napkin over the swell of her breast. He catches the wine before the droplets can trail down to her dress. The fabric is soft against her smooth skin and Rogers touch is ever so tender. 

He lets his thumb brush over her nipple while he cleans up her underside of her tit as well. 

"Wouldn't want to leave it sticky." She comments warmly.

Roger doesn't look away from his nearly finished task. "No. I suppose not."

"Uhm. Uh. I— I'm back soon. I'll go grab some new napkins. Uh, for you. Ma'm." The waiter stutters, eyes directed to the floor and wide with craze. 

"Thank you." Dominique says, which is enough to send him scurrying off towards the kitchen, while forgetting to take the dirty plates with him.

Roger sensually finishes cleaning her up with one last wipe over the curve of her left breast.

He doesn't hurry to pull away. She doesn't stress to hoist her dress back up. 

Their eyes meet and there is a soft hunger in Rogers that cannot be lessened with some  
shrimp.

Eventually Dominique leans in to kiss him on the lips. His mouth is slack and obedient against her own and suddenly Dominique realizes Roger is in deeper than he first let on. 

She pulls away but Roger hums and tries to follow her with his lips. 

"Shh, Rog." She chuckles and puts a finger to his lips. "I got a little dare for you." 

His eyes are nearly black from the size of his pupils. He nods eagerly. "What is it?"

"First zip me up." She orders gently. 

Roger takes one last adoring glance at her exposed breasts, letting bus eyes rake over her long and slow, before he nods. 

She turns around and throws her hair over one shoulder. Roger fumbles with the zipper, before he pulls the dress slightly up and closes it all the way to the top. It is a small loss on his part, but Dominique won't let him go deprived for long.

When she turns back around he is practically in her lap. "What's the dare?"

"First of all, you don't have to do it if you don't want to—"

"I want to." He assures. "I want to do it."

"You don't even know what it is." She chuckles kindly, before pinching his cheek. 

Rogers is not embarrassed because of his eagerness. He is not even self conscious of the way he leans into her touch like a skin hungry soul. 

Dominique runs a hand through his hair and looks him in the eye while she lays down the rules.

"I dare you to go to the bathroom, open yourself up with the lube in my bag and come back here with a dildo inside of you."

Roger blinks at her. "Do you have one with you?" 

"I do." She says calmly. 

What she loves about him is that he doesn't ask and doesn't question it. When she hands him her clutch, he holds it under his arm like the most precious thing he's got. 

"How many fingers?" He asks her. 

Dominique hums and considers the size of the cock in her bag. It is smaller than the strap they use regularly if they don't want to play with something bigger. 

She continues to run her fingers through his hair and he melts like a cat being groomed. 

"It shouldn't take more than three. I want you nice and tight around it, okay?"

With a final nod, "Okay." Roger pushes himself to his feet. Looking flustered and aroused, both in his face and because of the obvious tent in his trousers. Before he can turn away from the table and march over to the men's room with Dominiques bag, she pulls him back on the edge of his coat.

"Oh, and Rog?" 

"Yeah?"

"No coming until you're back here." She orders pointedly. "Got it?"

He doesn't seem disappointed. His eyes only darken more. "Okay." 

"Good," She grins with a teasing smack on his behind. "Off you go now." 

Roger walks straight to the restroom without a single glance back. Dominique squirms a little in her own chair when he is out of sight. A giddy energy travels from her neck down to her spine. She can't believe they are doing this. She always walks around with lube since dating Roger, but because they considered staying at Freddie's hired villa for the night she also took her travel sized dildo along. In case they might want to have some special fun. 

She hadn't anticipated this. How could she have?

To pass the time she reaches for her glass which was once Rogers and finishes it. Some time in between the waiter returns with a stack of cloth napkins and an apology.

"None needed." She smiles in the most dignified way. Roger didn't mind other men looking at her anyway, the same way she doesn't care when women fawn over Roger. It is the two of them that stumble into bed together at the end of the evening. It is them who share their wicked humor and know each others darkest secrets. Dominique can't blame the man for looking. Roger probably wanted him to. "Just don't tell on me." She chuckles. To which the waiter responds with an awkward curt laugh.

"The next course will be brought down any moment. No shrimp this time."

"Good." Dominique approves over her empty glass. "Good to know."

He disappears with their plates this time. Dominique is left alone again to stare at the men's restroom door for Roger to come back. He doesn't need much time, they had played around this morning and his body is well adjusted to welcomed intrusion. 

Therefor it takes no longer than another five minutes before the door swings open and Roger comes walking out. 

Dominique bites her lip to stop herself from chuckling at the sight. "Oh dear." She grins. 

Even though the size of the dildo isn't all that impressive, Roger isn't actually used to walking around with one shoved up his bum in public. He squirms and he gasps all the way to their table. Dominique is so kind to pull out his chair for him. He lowers himself slowly, but when he sits down, the toy must have pushed in deeper, because he gasps and moans. 

"Oh baby," She smiles and brushes his hair behind his ear. "Did you get it in okay?"

Roger nods. "Yes." 

The breathless tone is only arousing Dominique more. She hums again and rubs his shoulder to relax him a little. "Did anyone hear you? While you were opening yourself up in the stall?"

"I don't think so." Roger murmurs quietly. "I tried to be quiet."

"Wouldn't want to get caught, would we?" She asks. Roger shakes his head immediately. Dominique loves this. She loves to tease him and bring him closer to the edge without even having to fuck him herself. "Or would you? I bet you wouldn't mind if some guy hears you moan my name into your arm while you are knuckles deep inside of yourself. If someone would knock and ask if you're okay, you'd just find it hot, wouldn't you?"

Rogers cheeks are bright pink with arousal. He nods, yes. 

She chuckles and her hand travels down from his shoulder down his chest to brush over his erect nipple under his dress shirt. 

She is only touching him for less than a minute when he lets out another broken moan, hips stuttering. "Please? Dominique. I'm so hard." 

"You're so hard? Are you?" She asks kindly and finds her way to his belt and then further down, the tent in his trousers. 

He is hard. The lightest touch of her palm makes Roger groan helplessly. 

"Shh, baby, they can't know what we are doing. You have to be more quiet." She soothes him with a kiss to his pink cheek. "Can you be quiet for me?"

"Yeah." He promises in a whined whisper.

Not that it matters much, it is quite obvious for anyone sho casts a look in their direction that they are up to no good, with Rogers flushed cheeks and how Dominiques hand disappears under the table cloth. 

She doesn't care. 

If they want to throw them out at this moment, she will just finish Roger off back in the car. 

"My good boy, does it feel good?" She asks in a quiet tone herself. 

Her palm is neatly pressed against his erection. She ups the pressure every second and when Roger tries to roll his hips to gain more leverage, she tuts.

"No no, first tell me how it feels."

"It feels good." He murmurs. 

His eyes are lidded heavily and his hand has bunched up her dress without his own knowledge. Dominique doesn't tell him off.

"Is it snug against your little pleasure spot?" 

"Not quite." Roger swallows. "I might burst if it goes any deeper."

"And would you mind bursting in front of all of these people? Do you care if they see you messy and flustered?" 

He shakes his head. "Please."

"What do you want?" 

"More." He begs her. "Anything. Just _more_."

Dominique flattens her palm and deliberately rubs it against the outline of his cock. Rogers thighs tremble with the effort to stay still. 

She grins against his cheek. "Like so?"

"Yeah... Like so."

Despite the pleasure of endless teasing, Roger really should reach his climax soon if they want to get away with the final dare of the evening. Dominique knows how to get Roger where he needs to be better than anyone else.

She grabs his hip with her free hand and guides him into sitting up straighter, causing the dildo to slide all the way inside and settles snug against his prostate.

Roger gasps— shocked and aroused. He covers his mouth but his eyes have already rolled back into his head.

He's mesmerizing when caught in arousal.

Dominique rubs his cock under the table. Making sure to glaze the most over the sensitive head at the top. Rogers hips don't buckle but he has to fight very hard not to. The constant pressure on his oversensitive prostate has the most beautiful effect on him. 

Her wrist is growing stiff from how firmly she is grinding his cock with her hand. 

"I'm close, Dom. I'm so close."

"I know baby, show me how good you're feeling. Show me you can be a good boy for me."

Roger closes his hand tighter around his lips. Dominique can still hear the heated moans from behind his palm. She rubs his harder, watching intently how he climbs up to his orgasm. His pliant obedience to her muttered orders are nothing short from exhilarating. 

She knows his cock can't possibly stiffen ant more. She wraps her hand around it through the fabric and jerks him off into a cum oozing orgasm that leaves Rogers body shaking and his cock jerking to limpness in her hand.

"That's it, Rog. Well done. Give me everything." 

If they were at home she would have laid him down on the pillows and allowed him to recover with his face in her neck, until the tremors of his orgasm have passed. 

But stuck in this restaurant all she can do for him is hold him tight while he shakes through the aftershocks.

"Oh Dom," He sighs, a small smile curling across his face. "Thank you."

She leans closer and kisses his little smile. 

"You're welcome, baby. You did very well for me." She praises gently and finds herself combing his fringe behind his ear. "You know how to be a good sport." 

"I think you saved this bloody evening." Roger chuckles and finally manages to pry his eyes open.

They are dazed with pleasure and something else Dominique can't put her finger on. But she knows it is love that swells up her heart when she catches his dreamy gaze. 

"You know I love you right?" He asks.

Dominique snorts and presses another lingering kiss to his lips. "I know. And strangely enough, I love you too."

Roger opens his mouth to say something else, but they are pulled out of their moment by a pointed cough coming from above. "Excuse me." 

In front of them stands the waiter with his arms crossed and a beet red face. 

"I'm going to have to ask you guys to leave."

**Author's Note:**

> Please do tell me if you liked it 😆❤️


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